Words
by Centroides
Summary: Sometimes words can get us into trouble or out of trouble,it's all in how you interpret them.


A post war snippet that appeared when I was not looking.

Words

Colonel Garrison looked up when he heard the thud and bang. This part of the CIA building was normally quiet interrupted only with the sound of a door closing or a phone ringing. He waited but there was no further sound so he rose and moved out into the hall. There were eight doors along the hall, four on each side. His was the first. Three other doors were open allowing daylight to lay across the carpeted hallway. He moved carefully down the hall. It was normally quiet but something felt off. At each open door he glanced in. One fellow agent was at his desk and a conference room was deserted. He approached the third door which was almost closed. Carefully he pushed it open then stepped inside. In the centre was a table with open books and scattered papers. That was normal for this room. What was not normal was the two chairs laying on the floor, even more concerning was the man sitting beside the one chair. He was a solidly built man, a year or two older than himself and a guest.

Garrison quickly moved over and offered him a hand which was accepted. When the guest was fully erect Craig saw the reddening area on his left cheek. "Are you all right? What happened?"

The injured man touched his face gingerly and said with a wry smile, "a small miscalculate," his Russian accent very pronounced.

"What happened, Boris? I thought you were working with Chief?"

"Yes," he grinned, then touched his face again. "I give him name. He just learn one meaning of name." He stood straighter, moved his head side to side and arched his spine. "I'm not injured. Come, we go find him."

"No, leave him be. He'll come back when he cools off."

"But I must explain. Sometimes word have two meanings. I use one way, he

learn other. I must tell him, besides I want to know what he say." He took a step

towards the door but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Trust me."

Boris looked his host in the eye and saw the wisdom there. He nodded.

It wasn't until hours later when Craig was gathering his papers to put into his safe and his briefcase that he heard the knock on his door. Assuming it was the clerk delivering the last reports, he continued what he was doing and said, "Come in." Finishing up and with a final spin of the dial of the safe he turned. Instead of the clerk, it was Chief and from the look on his face, there was trouble. At the start of their relationship Chief had been difficult to read. The only emotions he showed were distrust, anger and wariness. With a pivotal mission and a bit of time he had begun to open up, begun to trust. No that closed angry look was back.

"I quit." It was a flat statement but his body was tense.

Craig tilted his head, hoping for an explanation. None seemed to be forth coming so he asked, "Why, what's gong on?" Still, there was no response so he added in a firmer tone, "I need a reason, details."

"It's personal." The tone was even but from experience Garrison heard the fire within.

"Sit down," and he indicated the chair as he sat as well. "I can give you some time off, you've earned it, but for a resignation, I need to know more."

Chief remained rigid for almost a minute before he sat. "I have to leave, I can't work here anymore."

"Are you in trouble?" Chief shook his head. "Well, then what is it?"

Chief took a deep breath and released it through his nose. "I said something and I can't take it back. All I can do is leave." From the looks and sounds of it, that was all Chief was prepared to say. Craig was going to have to bring in the heavy artillery.

"Come on, Chief," he started, allowing the frustration to show in his tone, "I need more than that. Does this have anything to do with your altercation with Boris?" He watched as Chief turned away and nodded. "What happened?"

The Indian had debated over what to say. He knew his former CO would not just let it go. He was a bulldog once he was faced with a problem. He had struggled over what to tell him. If he told what Boris had called him then Garrison would know. He knew Garrison would never stoop to using it against him or even laugh at him but once a person knew something it was always trouble. Then if he told about that then he would also have to admit he had hit Boris. The guy had probably already told but why bring it up again. Garrison was probably already mad about that. Boris was a guest here, so he would have to leave that out too. All he could do was gloss it over like Actor would do. "He pissed me off. I swore an honour oath so all I can do is leave, go back down south."

"What's an honour oath?"

Again Chief took a deep breath and released it quietly. There was no hope, he had to reveal it all. "Boris …."

Taking pity on the man he filled in what he had learned. "He told me he gave you a name that had two meanings, one of which you took offence to."

The relief on the younger man's face was obvious. "Yeah."

"So, what's an honour oath?"

"I was mad about what he called me," he started forcefully. "He shouldn't a called me that. ,,, I know I shouldn't a said it but …"

"What's an honour oath?"

Chief looked miserable. He looked at the book case, the floor, Craig's desk, then finally at his boss. "It's old, from the time when the Apache were free. It means I'm gunna kill you, slowly, in a way you lose your honour." Garrison looked suitably impressed, not doubting the seriousness of the oath. Chief looked even more uncomfortable. "If I don't carry it out then," his voice dropped, "I lose my honour." He resumed his normal tone. "Honour's all I got. Only way now, is if I leave. I can't kill'm if I'm not here."

The former Army Officer sat back. "We need to talk to Boris."

"Why?"

"He is involved." Garrison leaned forward and keyed the intercom. "Miss Wessner, has Mr. Ivanovich left yet?"

"No sir."

"Could you see if you can locate him and have him meet me in my office?"

"Certainly, Colonel."

Sitting back again he asked, "Meanwhile, how are the lessons coming?"

"He treats me like an idiot."

Craig smiled gently. He had thought the same way until he had gotten to know him. "I think that is just his way. He is a proud man and in a way I think he fears he is betraying his people. Our two countries are not on the best of terms. I think his arrogance is his defence, he wants to help but does not want to make it too easy."

Chief thought that over, and marvelled again at how smart Garrison was, at how he seemed to know everything. It made sense, a man in a foreign land , a land where the people looked down on him, trying to fit in, trying to make a place for himself, all alone with no help. He could understand his looking on everyone with disdain. He had done it for years. But that did not give him the right to call him what he did. And there was the oath to take into consideration.

His musings were cut short by the arrival of their guest. As he came into the room he saw the man sitting facing the American Officer. "Chief, I want to explain …"he started as he entered the room but was cut short by a very angry command.

"Shut up and sit down." Chief knew he was over stepping by ordering someone else in Garrison's office but he had to let the Russian know he was not making fun of him any more.

Boris stopped and looked at Garrison, a bemused expression on his face. Garrison nodded at the chair and the older man sat.

"Boris," started Garrison, "how are the lessons coming?"

"Good. He is not ready for making big speech but he understands most. More practice and he will speak Russian, maybe not like real Russian, but good enough to pass."

Chief refused to look in his direction. He could hear the laughter in his voice. The jerk was lying. Garrison had to see that, he wasn't a fool.

"And after this mornings … altercation, do you wish to continue teaching him?"

"Yes," and he turned to Chief who was still refusing to look at him, "if he still wants to learn."

"Chief?" asked Garrison.

"No. I'm done. I told you why, nothing's changed."

The Russians voice lost it's laugh as he said, "You told him, now you tell me."

Chief turned to his sworn enemy and glared for a moment then turned to the man who he thought was going to help him. Garrison nodded once so he started. "You called me a sissy an' I swore to kill you." Garrison knew the man's violent tendencies. This tone was straight from his violent past, a past that had seen him kill without hesitation.

Boris showed no more reaction than a raised eyebrow, he did not smile or speak. He was obviously taking this seriously. "What is sissy?" He listened patiently as Garrison explained. Finally he nodded to Chief. "You are right, but not right." He saw Chief begin to gather himself but he continued, "I give you Russian name. I use name as young boy, learning, starting out, because that is what you do. You starting to learn like baby. The slang for that is what you call sissy. I," and he thumped his chest with his open palm, "I not call you sissy, or baby. I call you starting learning. Not call you that any more. You are past starting. So you are right. I call you name but not right about what I mean. You understand?"

Chief watched him. He sounded sincere, there was no laughter behind the words. He waited and watched but the Russian remained still. Okay, maybe he could accept that but there was more at stake. "I swore to kill you."

Ah, yes. In Russia we say like that but we also say, I kill you someday but not today. So you vow to kill me but you not say when. Right?"

Chief thought that over. It made sense, sort of. He scowled. Could he hold on to that? Would that allow him to not fulfil the oath and still keep his honour? He looked to Garrison who sat passively hands laying on his desk. He seemed to accept it. Chief continued to roll the idea around in his soul. He pictured Goyen, an older Apache woman who had helped him so long ago, and she smiled and nodded. It was all right with her. The ancestors would accept it. He stood, turned to the Russian and said, "I will still kill you but not today."

"Good," said the man as he stood, the smile back on his face and in his voice. He held out his hand and Chief accepted it. They shook solemnly. Without releasing his grip he said, "When it comes time to kill me, you will have to stand in line." He then added heartily, "This calls for Vodka."


End file.
